Fuelling The Flame
by Yesterdays Whisper
Summary: She had won the games but lost her soul and he always knew exactly how she was feeling. He saw beneath her tough exterior and she saw past his cocky grin. Before the star-crossed lovers from District 12, there were the district-crossed lovers from Districts 4 and 10. Finnick/OC
1. Chapter 1

A/N- I don't own The Hunger Games.

**Fuelling the Flame **

It was not unusual to wake up in the morning to the sound of cattle and sheep lazily calling to each other. In fact, it would be considered strange to hear a noise other than that of livestock. Their sounds provided comfort to the inhabitants of District 10. The people of District 10 knew only of hard work, long days and intense heat. It would not be surprising to find out that at the end of the dark days, the Capitol picked the inhabitants based solely on the fact that they had a larger affinity with animals than humans. The people in District 10 found comfort in being able to wake every morning to see a wide expanse of green pastures and winding rivers, with a hint of salt and fertiliser on the winds that swayed the long grasses in unused paddocks. District 10 was able to find solace in the circle of life, in nature and being able to understand animals better than their human counterparts. Almost nothing could extinguish their simmering passion for the freedom of nature, except The Hunger Games. The games outweigh the irony of the fact that even though the district is the producer of the Capitols food the people in the districts go hungry. The games crush the spirit, and every year the inhabitants are forced to watch their happy go lucky children be killed like pigs at the local slaughterhouse.

It was a morning like any other at District 10, waking up at dawn to check the stock and other farming chores and for the townsfolk it involved opening up their shops in order to process the incoming meat. But at noon the District would stop and meet together at the town square for another reminder of the Capitols power, the reaping. It was enough to scare any parent and child over 12. For fear is a valuable weapon, and the Capitol use it well. Cynthia knows the pain of the Hunger Games, knows that the tributes never win and victors never return. Like clockwork every year, she makes the journey to the town square where she will watch as two tributes, one boy and one girl will be picked. Two children that are then intrusted to her, a victor, as their last hope for survival by parents who hope to see their family once again whole. Cynthia knows that this is a folly notion, that any child that is reaped never leaves the arena that the body returned to the families may be breathing but they are no longer alive.

She won the 67th Hunger Games at age 16. One of the youngest victors ever, she was charming and likeable enough but, like most victors she had enough ferocity and callousness to return home. She won through using her brute strength and broad knowledge of a wide range of weapons, with a personal favourite of knives. In a way she won by luck with the arena being very similar to her home district and her competitors weary of her high score in practice, an unheard of 9 for non-careers. From the beginning she knew that the only way for her to survive was to outsmart and outrun her competitors, so once the 60 second count down had ended she had sprung from her podium and swiftly ran to the cornucopia where she grabbed knives, swords and a survival backpack before racing off into the wilderness. She knew better than to stick around for the bloodbath or rely on allies to keep her alive, she would do her killing at the end when her competitors were tired and paranoid. It would be easiest to slip under their defences then, and it was. Because it took 3 days for the final 6 to be removed from her path of freedom, but it was then when she was met with the harsh light of reality that she realised what it had cost to come out of the arena still breathing, that you cannot kill children and expect your soul to remain.

But her auburn hair and womanly build had created a stir within the Capitol. Her whit and dangerous demeanour made her desirable in the way that she was viewed as a wild mustang that the people of Panem wanted to tame, wanted to control and most importantly wanted to have. But she was a victor, she believed that her sacrifice deserved recognition, and through her blinded arrogance she declined, most passionately, President Snow's offers. This foolhardy notion ended up destroying her more than any arena. It left her homeless, her family mysteriously dead by the end of the year. Her trusting younger sister and her brash teenaged brother along with her parents, the McLaughlin family was gone. She lived in a house full of memories; she did not dare to call it a home now, now that it was void of anything but herself and her demons. Now Cynthia knew the true meaning of hell. Hell was no longer a place to fear after death, but a place she was suddenly thrust into, it's the darkest parts of your soul, a part that consumes even the smallest shards of hope. She now knew that she was in complete control of the Capitol and that she will never escape its cold clutches.

For the past seven years she has watched her children, the ones that counted on her for survival, die in horrific and terrifying ways. She sees them every night and every morning simple things remind her of all that she has lost and all those that she could not save, there were never any odds because the Capitol never did anyone any favours. The Capitol only took until all that was left was nightmares and a shell of a soul that was haunted by the damned.

She still remembers when she first saw the Capitol, the trees and grass from District 10 seem to have been replaced with tall buildings and concrete roads, where the fashion was as gory as the Games itself. You see, a District 10 child finds no home in the manufactured and plastic or in gadgets and fine gowns. They require the freedom of the open ranges and the fresh breeze that chills in the winter and warms in the summer. She still remembers feeling a complete sense of untrust towards the people and their technology, because nothing could be more reliable than the seasons, the livestock and breeding, could it? You cannot control the Capitolites the way you can a mob of cattle and you cannot walk as freely in high heels as you can in worn out boots. She was primed and prodded and made a princess. Her clothes became edgy, because a true femme fatale needs to be seductive, mysterious and unattainable. Her cool attitude only sparked a flame of lust that insured her sponsors in the arena and the death of her family. Regret is a synonym to victor, regrets for living and surviving as well as for the deaths you cause during and after the games.

Her actions have led her here, at the podium where she watches first hand her Districts children being picked for an unwinnable game. The districts escort Fifi Jackson is dressed to the nines in pale blue, it matches with her soft pink wig that is bunched up high on the top of her head, and her face is surprisingly plain this year with only long eyelashes. Fifi pulls out the names that Cynthia and Denver, a fellow male tribute, will coach and hopefully get them out of the arena with their life. It is heart wrenching to know that at best, only one of these children will be coming home.

'Willow Bucket'

'Mace Galloway'

Two names, which before now did not hold a lot of meaning, two names that have now been added to the history pages as tributes of the 74rd Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favour…


	2. Chapter 2

The train left the station and the camera crews behind. Now all that was left were two small children that looked up to Cynthia and Denver with hopeful eyes. Cynthia turned her head to the window, unable to look Willow or Mace in the eyes, she could not pretend that she was capable of bringing either of them home whole, that this would be the last time they looked upon their beloved district with the same passion as they did this morning. It was quiet at first in the dinning carriage as victors and tributes sat at the large mahogany table and ate quietly at the expensive Capitol food.

'Oh good, good', exclaimed Fifi as she entered the carriage, 'You will both need some more meat on those bones if you want to impress the Capitol and win yourself some sponsors', her shrill voice filled the carriage quickly and caused the two children to jump in their sets and turn to face their escort. Slowly Mace turned back towards the two victors and asked,

'What is the plan? What should we do to win?' Mace was desperate, his eyes shone with dreams and hopes that were threatened to be shattered by the looming games. Denver laughed a long and hollow laugh and turned towards Cynthia,

'Should I do the honours or should you? I always hate telling the kids the awful truth', Denver had the habit of talking in front of the tributes without thinking, his drinking habits making it harder for him to censor what should and should not be said in their company, didn't realise that these children were looking for the comfort of lies. Cynthia sighed; she was always left with this conversation. They began the same and they ended the same. There were no keys to success in the arena, the gamemakers made sure of that. Predictability leads to security and the gamemakers cannot have anyone feeling at all prepared for the arena. It just wouldn't prove fun for all the Capitol watches,

'The best advice, think before you do something and don't enter the bloodbath at the beginning of the Games. You need to outsmart the other tributes if you want to win. Allies can be good, but don't rely on them because they will stab you in the back when the time comes. Be wary of the Careers, don't mix with them but don't get on their bad side, you don't need to become a target. But most of all, survive in any way possible. Find water, food and shelter. Water is your main priority- many tributes have died because they have been too stupid to find water. That, that is how you stay alive', She had stared into the eyes of the two tributes during her speech, it was the same every year and it had almost became an almost legacy of the trip into the Capitol. Cynthia wouldn't be surprised if Denver couldn't quote the whole speech himself these days.

'Is that all?' the girl spoke up with a smirk, 'If I had thought it would be that easy I would have volunteered _years _ago', her sarcasm seeping through past her smirk like a slap in the face,

'Maybe there should be a special priority for you then, Willow. Cockiness gets you killed, so how about you work on your attitude and start listening to me, girl, because I am your link to survival. You don't like me? Fine, but I've won this game, so I might know a bit more than you do', Cynthia had risen from her chair by the end of the speech and was looking down at the shocked 14 year old girl before she raised her eyebrow, 'I am going to retire to the sleeping carriage. You two should watch the reaping recaps with Denver to get a handle on who you are fighting', and with a flourish she walked towards the bar, took a full bottle of whiskey and left the carriage. She needed a strong drink, maybe several.

Cynthia woke the next morning to the sun shining in her face, she groaned before turning away from the window to look at the clock, 6 am. Even with a body full of booze it was impossible to sleep past sunrise, it was engrained into her since birth. She rolled out of bed and hobbled blindly towards the bathroom hoping a shower will rid her of the lingering effects of the bottle of whiskey that she kicked out of her way near the edge of the bed. Stripping off her clothes and underwear Cynthia turned the tap on and pressed a few buttons until the shower was at a hot temperature with a mango scent. The scent was so exotic compared to the smells of home, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. After she felt decent she stepped out of the shower to dry herself. Giving herself a glance in the mirror she sighed, her face disgusted her it reminded her of why her parents were dead. She walked back into the bedroom and walked towards the closet that was filled to the brim with a wide selection of formal and causal outfits. Cynthia knew that in order to gain her tributes sponsors she would need to work her Capitol charm, men would flock to the mysterious and beautiful Cynthia not the farm ready, sheep crutching Cynthia. She picked out a black dress that showed off her back and red heels. She styled her now dry hair into a simple messy bun and walked out of the room. She was ready to play Capitol Cynthia if it meant that her tributes had a better chance of survival. She met Willow and Mace at the dinning carriage and watched their faces as they stared in awe at the huge buildings and crazy Capitolites,

'Nothing like 10 is it?' Cynthia murmured as she approached the two at the window, both looking slightly ashamed,

'Cynthia, I want to apologise, I realise you are just trying to help us. I am just so scared that this is it, that I am going to die in there. I hope that you will continue to give us advice because without you and Denver we wont survive one minute in the arena', Willow looked towards Cynthia with her hand held out for her to shake, which Cynthia took before placing an arm on both children,

'I am your girl, and I will do everything I can to bring you home', She replied with all the confidence in the world. She opened her mouth to continue until she turned at the sound of the clicking heels of Fifi with Denver swaggering in behind her,

'now, now Children. Smile wide and wave to the lovely people out there. You need these people to like you. Big smiles, big, big, big', Fifi gushed as she stood behind Mace in hopes of being captured in the photographs that were being snapped,

'The trick is to act excited and wondered at the Capitol, too look at awe at it and its people. The Capitol loves that, wide eyed kids always get good sponsors', Denver states as he sides up next to Cynthia, ' I see you're more than ready to start gaining sponsors for them', whispers close to Cynthia's ear before giving her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Fifi had begun shuffling Mace and Willow out of the train and into the bright lights of the Capitol. Cynthia just sighed and made her way at the back of the group preparing herself for the crazed fans that will no doubt be screaming for past and present tributes from District 10. The first time Cynthia had heard the screaming she had been shocked, and then pleased that she could evoke such a response from a crowd of people. Now it was harder to hide her disgust of the lowlife Capitol people who found such enjoyment out of murderous children.

Plastering a wide smile on her face, Cynthia descended from the train and allowed herself to be escorted by the peacekeepers to the remake centre where she will meet up with other victors that were mentoring this year. That was the only upside of the games, being able to see her friends again even for just a short time. Willow and Mace were farewelled as they were taken to separate cubicles to get waxed, scrubbed and made up into representatives of their District. Hopefully they wouldn't be dressed up like livestock like another year of tributes had to. Cynthia made her way to room at the end of the Remake centre where the carriages awaited the tributes for their parade to the Training Centre. She allowed a small smile to creep up her face as she noticed Chaff and Haymitch Abernathy. The three of them were drinking buddies and known to get pretty rowdy after a few glasses. Her smile widened as she edged closer and called out,

'Hello boys, I hope you've missed me', She hugged both men tightly before taking a step back and admiring the pair. They were the closest thing she still had to a father figure and between the two of them she knew that she was protected. They shared a love of alcohol and dirty jokes, especially when the Capitol was the butt of their jokes,

'Hey sweetheart, I see you've already caused a stir with that oh so modest number', Haymitch replied with a small smirk before casting his eyes towards the new mentors from Districts 1 and 2,

'Oh I try, I really do. Apparently no male can resist a tempting red head', She started before dropping to a whisper, 'we're just that good in bed', she turned and winked in 1 and 2's direction before turning back around to see Chaff hiding a laugh behind his hand,

'Cyn, you play your sexy tribute card too well sometimes', was all he said with a shake of his head before his head lifted slightly to look behind Cynthia. Before she could turn around and see what he was looking at two strong and very tanned arms wrapped themselves around her waist before lifting her up and twirling around. She let out a laugh, the first one in months before grabbing hold of both his arms and pushing her leg back and around one of his legs. Pulling the leg forward caused the body to drop backwards and before Cynthia could be pulled back too she pulled herself free from the arms. Turning with a smile she winked,

'Mr Odair, nice seeing you again, you just couldn't help falling for me could you?' she smirked before offering him a hand up which he took with a small smile before getting a gleam in his eye. Finnick's grip on her hand cause her to fall forward so she was now draped over his body,

'I only fall because I know you will follow, Miss Cyn', he grinned before pulling a seductive face. With a push at his chest she heaved herself off the ground,

'Only in your dreams, Finny-boy, only in your dreams. Where's Mags? I've missed her so much, more than anyone else from District 4 actually', contrary to her words she walked back towards a now standing Finnick and gave him a tight hug. He responded in kind by drawing her closer and taking in the smell of her hair that reminded him of trees, grass and the wilderness. The smell comforted him whilst he was in the Capitol with her and he didn't have the sea breeze to calm him. There would be no way Finnick would ever admit that maybe the smell of grass comforted him more than the smell of brine. He smiled at her as she pulled away and noticed not for the first time how natural she looked even under the harsh lights of the Capitol.

'Mag's is here, she is already at the Training Centre, says she is getting too old for all this fanfare,' he replied with his face pressed against her neck, his lips brushing ever so slightly on her pulse point, 'You could never miss me, I imagine all your dreams centre around me and my delectable body', Cynthia laughed and hooked her arm around his before strutting off in the direction the rest of the mentors were heading. Preparing to give their tributes final pieces of advice before they were sent out like platters at a party for the Capitol to enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

Cynthia watched the large screens projected against the wall showing this year's tributes make it to the square where President Snow would give his short speech. Cynthia barely hid a scoff as Snow claims that these children had the honour of being picked. There was no honour in being forced to kill children, there was no honour in watching children lose their moral compass and turn into killing machines. The mentors were all placed into a room at the training centre by this point and were waiting for their tributes to make their way through the parade to them, to congratulate and console them.

'Nice cowboy outfits, I might borrow one after the end of the parade', Cynthia turned at the voice ready to defend her district when she came across the smirking face of Johanna Mason of District 7 and the only girl around her age that she could relate too. Both completely alone in this world and equally angry,

'I always knew that tassels and cowboy hats would suit you, Jo', Cynthia smirked at the girl before nudging her with her shoulder, 'How do you reckon we will go this year. 1 and 2 are fierce this year', she tried to make the question come off lightly but both could see in each other's eyes that their tributes had a tough battle ahead of them,

'I'm just hoping that our kids aren't complete idiots this year', Johanna always hid her feelings behind a tough exterior it was something Cynthia understood, ' the girl from 12 is another one to look out for, her volunteering for her sister was pretty epic', Cynthia nodded in agreement and cast a look at Haymitch who was looking intently at the screen, she frowned it was not like Haymitch to get overly attached or involved with his tributes. His attention to the parade was enough to send off warning bells in Cynthia's mind,

'Yes, it would be wise if we didn't count out 12 yet', Cynthia looked at Johanna before walking away from the screen in order to be at the door to get her tributes into their apartment as soon as possible. Catching Dever's eyes she motioned towards the door with a swift nod he made his way over. They waited in silence for a while before they turned towards each other at the same time and muttered,

'keep an eye on 12?'

'We've gotta watch 12', Cynthia laughed and nodded before growing serious again, 'Don't let Mace or Willow know how tough their competitors really are, we gotta get them confident if they are going to have any chance at this', Denver looked down at his scuffed shoes and dragged a hand through his hair,

'it's not going to be easy keeping them alive, 12's taking the sponsors and 1 and 2 have the strength. Let's hope they've got the brains', before anything else could be said the first carriage made its way towards the building. Fifi was just joining the two mentors who were fixing hopeful smiles on their faces, hoping they could fool their tributes for just a little bit longer. Mace and Willow hoped down off the carriage and made their way towards us. Cynthia moved forward and placed a hand on each of their shoulders,

'you looked wonderful out there. I am sure you caught a few eyes tonight', Mace and Willow were not fooled, their faces were pale even under all the makeup and their eyes were sad. Cynthia noticed this and put an even brighter smile on her face, 'hey now, it's not over until it's over, you hear me?' She pushed them towards the elevator as Fifi made small talk to the pair about how wonderful they looked before moving on to gush about how much they would like their rooms. Cynthia caught Finnick's eye as he made his way towards her with his own tributes and Mags who had a tight grip on his arm. Cynthia smiled and rushed forward and touched the old woman's face. The woman she knew could heal any sort of hurt with just a smile and a gentle hand. A woman who, despite the games only seemed to have flourished into a well-respected and kind woman, the woman who took care of Finnick when he came tumbling down at the end of his games and after every night he spends with capitol women,

'Gosh, how I've missed you Mags', Cynthia exclaimed as the frail woman moved from gripping Finnick to grasping her hands in her own and giving a small laugh and smile. Mags moved one hand away and placed it on Finnick's check before smiling again,

'I don't know how you put up with his ego Mags. It's a wonder it can fit inside the building. I saw him flexing at some Capitol woman a little while ago', Finnick just grinned and put his best Capitol smile on his face before lifting up both arms and flexing,

'No one is quite as handsome as I, and it should be celebrated', the posh Capitol accent he had put on made both Mags and Cynthia laugh at him. Cynthia turned towards the two tributes who had watched the conversation with wary eyes,

'Hello, I am Cynthia from District 10. Good luck in training tomorrow', Cynthia smiled at them before turning back towards Mags and Finnick, 'Have fun on the lower floors, Finny-boy. 10, as always, have one of the penthouse suits', laughing she turned on her heel and walked towards the waiting elevator that was holding a waiting Fifi, Denver, Willow and Mace. As the doors were closing she blew a kiss towards Finnick who made a point of catching it and placing it in his pocket. With a shake of her head, the doors closed and they began making their trip to level 10.

Coming back to the Capitol every year always left Cynthia with mixed feelings. There were so many reasons she hated it. It meant that 23 other children were going to die after they had been dressed like a Christmas ham and it meant that she had intimate viewing of every single death. No matter which District you mentored for, each death hurt and chipped away at the remains of your soul. It was worse knowing that in those final moments the tributes are wishing that you would come and save them, that you would send them something that would save them. Cynthia hated knowing that she could only sit and watch as they begged, knowing that there were not enough sponsors to save, to heal or protect. But in so many ways she enjoyed returning to the Capitol, she enjoyed seeing her friends, friends that had become like family. It gave her Chaff and Haymitch to drink with so that she didn't have to drink alone every night, it gave her Mags whose comforting hands gave her hope, it gave her Johanna who was so much like herself that it was like looking in a mirror, and then there was Finnick the boy-man who had the whole capitol fooled. For the Capitol he was a sex symbol and the ultimate night of fun, a lover that came at a high price. But for Cynthia he was just a boy, who was struggling to keep his head above water, he was her anchor in rough seas and her companion through any weather. They were the youngest mentors and they bonded over that. They were the inseparable 2 until Johanna won her games and they become the 3 trouble makers. Finnick and Cynthia had clicked from the very beginning. They understood each other and they helped each other heal. Where Johanna kept the darkness away like only a best friend could, Finnick kept the fire burning within her soul.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you for the reviews. I am shocked that any one even read this, let alone liked it. I am not a writer, I don't even know why I am writing this story, but nice words give me confidence.

The first night in the Capitol is the hardest for Cynthia. It is nothing like her home in District 10. When she had won her games she was given a house in the Victors Village, it was close to town in the north of the District. She never felt at home there though, so far from the southern end of the District that she called home. Where the north was cold the south was dry and she felt that she could breathe a little easier with the winds carrying the salty breeze. Most of the time Cynthia could be found at her old farmhouse where she and her siblings grew up, where her papa grew up, it was the only place she felt that she could breathe. But on occasion she was required in town, to welcome victors on their victory tour or to raise District moral when people were going hungry. At these times she felt like a sham, she never went hungry anymore and she had more money than she would ever need. She made peace with herself by pouring money into the local school, finding comfort in the fact that the children in her District would be having at least one decent meal that day. But she couldn't save her whole District, there was not enough food or money in her grasp for that and that just compressed against the pain she felt every year at the Hunger Games.

Unlike the Capitol, Cynthia woke every morning to a window overlooking a wide open plane with a slow meandering river to the west. She heard the bleats of sheep and in spring time the fields came alive with wildflowers that she would roam through, but never pick because picking a flower is like signing its death wish and she had signed enough of those to last a life time. Ever since winning her games there was no longer any need for her to keep numerous heads of cattle, goats or sheep she even stopped growing chickens as she had no need to take away the revenue of growing the food from other more deserving families. But she still got lonely, wandering large empty fields so she brought herself a few cattle and sheep and let them roam her paddocks so she could at least hear their comforting calls.

Being in the Capitol meant she always looked back on District 10 with fond memories, she never remembers the years of famines or what would happen to families if they did not meet their quotas. She remembered everything about home with rose tinted glasses, like District 10 was the place to live, when in reality District 10, 11 and 12 were the poorest districts in the whole of Panem. They were the dirt of Panem, the grunt, the disposables. But to Cynthia, that did not matter because where there was nature and where there was wilderness she was free. She found freedom in livestock and flowing rivers and found peace in wandering through thick forests.

The days before the final interviews always blend together; there are murmurs of encouragement, hugs, yelling and tears. It is a time when tributes are most vulnerable. What you do and how you act in these days shapes what kind of situation you will be in once you enter the arena, it depicts who likes you, who doesn't and who finds you a threat or worse, an easy target. Willow and Mace had improved since their first public appearance with the chariot ride; they had gained confidence and skill. They worked hard in training and became skilled with survival and weapons. They fared well during the private training sessions with equal scores of 6. But the girl from District 12 had gotten an 11, Katniss Everdeen was stealing the show. She had brains, skill and the Capitol loved her. Chaff, Haymitch and Cynthia would drink together every night in the mentors lounge but Chaff and Cynthia noticed Haymitch's reluctance to drink as much, talk as much about his tributes or give away his plans. Normally they shared every idea they had when it came to their tributes but this year he was standoffish and noncommittal. That is when Cynthia knew what was wrong. The odds were not in the favour of Cynthia's tributes, they were in Haymitch's favour.

Cynthia had confronted Finnick and Johanna when she had figured it out. Most nights during the game the three would train themselves down in the mentors gym, trying to release the anger and hatred that was buried within their beings,

'District 12 is going to win, I can feel it. Haymitch is never this focused, he never gets attached. Right now they are basically attached at the hip. It's like district 12 has turned into the hippy commune of love in the last year', Cynthia exclaimed as she began to throw her knives towards the targets at the other end of the room with deadly accuracy. Finnick haltered mid throw of his trident before turning to face the two women he considered his best friends,

'You mean this whole time you've been here, only you and Chaff have succumbed to your alcoholic ways?'

'I am not an alcoholic, Finnick!' Cynthia exclaimed indignantly although deep down she knew that her affinity with alcohol since her games had escalated into an addiction. Admitting that in her own head did not mean that she was suddenly welcoming to the idea of her friends pointing it out,

'Let's focus on the shit pile that is Katniss Everdeen instead. She has the monopoly right now. This is just ridiculous; the first outlying district to win in years is going to be 12. Un-fucking-believable', Johanna cried out angrily and finished with a sharp throw of an axe right at the closest targets head. They all looked at each other in defeat, knowing deep down that there was nothing that they could do this late in the game for our tributes, that they had reached the end of our road and all they could do now was be with the bodies of the tributes as they were taken back to our districts in a coffin.

Johanna left the gym early, claiming that she needed time to vent on her own. Cynthia knew that she needed time to grieve over her tributes, because although Johanna acted like she did not care about anything, she cared deeply about each tribute she mentored. Because under any hard exterior there is bound to be something soft and vulnerable, or else a hard exterior would not be necessary in the first place. Cynthia and Finnick practiced together in silence for a long time throwing weapon after weapon at the targets before all that was left were two sweaty bodies and two broken hearts.

They laughed. The kind of laugh that is desperate, the kind of laugh that signals that they were trying to feel something in a mass of numbing pain,

'Our tributes are going to die, and they haven't even reached the arena yet. If that's not fucking bad luck I don't know what is', Cynthia rose an eyebrow as he said this,

'Since when did Finnick Odair, Capitol Lover boy and Victor extraordinaire, become the angry bitter guy?' She turned towards Finnick with a slight frown. Cynthia always relished in the fact that although her and Johanna were sinking under the weight of being alone and lonely that at least Finnick was always optimistic, always saw the best and tried to hope for the best. Cynthia felt that if there was ever a time when Finnick would give up that she would too, because it would be something incomprehensibly bad for Finnick to lose hope. Finnick sighed and shook his head,

'Maybe it was just all wishful thinking. Maybe I should take up the alcohol and drugs, it works for you', Cynthia took a step back in shock,

'Finnick… you are so much stronger than me, you're made of much better stuff than me. Don't do what I've done; I took the weak way out. But you, you're Finnick Odair the fisherman from District 4, you're meant to survive hell or high waters', she sighed and turned away from him before looking back and grasping her hand in her own, 'The waves never stop trying to reach the shore no matter how many times it gets pushed away. You are like the ocean, unbreakable', she smiled a small smile and fell silent. Letting Finnick come back to her in his own time, like he always did and how she hoped he always would.

Finnick glanced at Cynthia from the corner of his eye, taking in her soft curves and talk stature; she was as tall as him but not as broad. Her face was hard and defined, even without Capitol makeup and her long red hair was tied severely at the top of her head only to fall in a bundle of curls to her lower back. The Capitol Finnick noticed her subtle body that was delectable and flawless. But the real Finnick noticed the scars that marred her arms from the fences of farms, he noticed the bags under her eyes where she did not sleep at night, he noticed the faint shake in her hands she got when she went a day without alcohol. The real Finnick also noticed her eyes, so blue some days and other days they were grey. He imagined that before her games they would have held so much emotion, they would have shined when she was happy and they would have been cloudy when she was sad. But ever since the games her eyes had been the same, although they were bright and beautiful they were empty, as if there was nothing left inside of her to peak through, like she had sold herself at some point never returned. And Finnick decided that the things that didn't make her beautiful were the things he liked most of all.

The real Finnick hardly ever made it past the Capitol Finnick exterior, it was becoming harder and harder for him to be himself. But somehow in the middle of something terrible, Cynthia could make him feel, make him see and make him do things that were so much like the old Finnick, the real Finnick, which it frightened him for just a moment before he let himself go and he remembered what it was like to be real. That is why the real Finnick stopped throwing tridents and spears at the targets and turned to face Cynthia with a serious face before pulling her forward into his arms. It was the real Finnick that enclosed her in his arms and rested his head in the crook of her neck, it was the real Finnick that whispered to her in the middle of the cold hard Capitol, words he never thought he would ever be real enough to say,

'You always bring me back home'.


	5. Chapter 5

Mentors are paraded around during the Hunger Games just as much as their tributes; they are required to attend galas and balls in the honour of the Games. Cynthia never liked these events; they went against everything she had ever thought was right, she felt like one of the Capitolites with the way they all carried on. There was alcohol and masses off food as well as pills and drinks that made people throw up so they could eat and drink more. It disgusted her, there were people dying in her District and many others and the Capitol was throwing up so they could eat more. Cynthia never felt at home amongst all the people, with their cosmetic implants and they brightly coloured skin and hair. She was used to the natural feel of District 10, she was used to people being upset that there was not enough to eat not that there was too much to eat. The galas were usually held in the same places every year, in rich people's houses when they wanted to show off their new décor that was '_so this season' _or President Snow's so he could keep an even closer eye on peoples interactions. Cynthia had limited dealings with the President, other than when he asked her to work for him she had not come into contact with him. President Snow needed to have power over people in order to control them and make them do his bidding, but he no longer had control over Cynthia the way he wanted because he had killed off all the people that had mattered most to her.

Cynthia always tried to arrive to these galas late, this way she would have to spend as little time as possible mingling with people that found joy in children killing each other. Many people would approach her and gush about how entertaining her games were and how skilled she was. It made her feel sick to her stomach, she did not want to remember that year of her life, she spent so much effort trying to forget it and numb herself to it every day. But people still approached her, and still congratulated her, still fawned over her and still lusted over her. She got many offers from Capitol men who wanted her to warm their cold beds, even a few woman looking to spice up their loveless marriages. But she always declined, she would never allow herself to be used by the Capitol like that, it was the one thing she still had control over.

The only good thing about these galas was the free alcohol, it supplied the whole night. It provided Chaff, Haymitch and Cynthia with a means to handle these events. They usually tried to see who could outdrink the other, Cynthia always lost she was a lot smaller than the two and did not have the tolerance to alcohol they did, but she sure could drink the younger victors under the table. The three knew they were a joke to the majority of the other victors for their drinking habits, they knew they were considered the weak links of the victor chain. But that did not stop them from making fools of themselves every year and drinking so much that they could hardly make it back to the training centre. It was these nights that Finnick always came to Cynthia's rescue, he would stay close to her the whole night watching her closely and making sure she kept out of trouble. He would step in whenever she got herself into a spot and would walk her away from the sleazy Capitol men that wanted to take advantage of her inebriated state. Finnick would walk her back to the transports and help her into the backseat before following; he was her pillow on the way back to their apartments and her crutch as they walked back up into her room. He helped her out of her clothes and turned on the shower for her. Every morning Cynthia would wake up to feel his warm body pressed against hers as he slept soundly, one armed draped over her stomach holing her to him. It was in these moments that Cynthia would start, she would worry and fret. She knew everyone had a weakness, she had exploited peoples weaknesses during her games it was something she could read off of other people, and it was during these early hours of yesterday and today when she worried most about how Finnick was becoming her weakness. And nothing scared her more than knowing that at any moment the Capitol will find out and use him against her that his life could be in her hands.

Cynthia woke that morning with a buzzing in her head and an uneasy stomach, she had drunk more than usual that night, a gala had been held after the interviews with this year's tributes and Mace and Willow had a feeble interview personality, and they knew it. They were struggling to gain any popularity and although at first they improve in training the past few days had lead them to not getting any better. They were chocking and they had figured out how real a threat District 12 was, they were disheartened and they had lost all confidence. Cynthia had headed to the gala with hopes of trying to grasp onto any sponsors she could find in hopes of at least attempting to save their lives. But no one was biting, they were not interested in the average tributes from District 10, they wanted star-crossed lovers from District 12. Even Cynthia could not compete with that, and in despair she had hit the bar only to stumble outside in the early hours of the morning before falling into a transport bound for the Training Centre. Finnick hadn't come to her rescue that night, and it left her feeling uneasy, it left a strange taste in her mouth. They had not spoken much since their talk in the gym a week ago; he had avoided her at all costs even walking out of a room she had just entered. Cynthia was hurt and confused. When the games were on and they were both in the Capitol, the pair always made time for each other; they always shared stories and filled each other in on their lives between the games. In a way Cynthia had become dependent on knowing that Finnick was never too far away, that he was always in her reach.

Hoping into the shower, Cynthia tried to push any unnecessary thoughts from her mind and focused solely on the task of getting prepared for Willow and Mace's last days outside the arena. The last day always plays havoc on the tributes minds, it is a day of reflection and it allows seeds of doubt to grow in every one's mind. It leaves even the most confident of tributes second guessing their abilities. It was the day when you needed your mentors most, not for advice or guidance, but just for support and comfort. It is the only day when you can show weakness and fall apart. It's the final day to be yourself. Walking into the main room Cynthia notices Denver is already up and making his way through a large breakfast of eggs and bacon, he looks up as she walks into the room. His face is blank and his eyes are sullen, it seems he has also taken the edge off the day by taking some kind of drug the night before. The pair sits in silence and slowly pick at their food. Cynthia had just chosen some plain toast, feeling too uneasy to eat anything too heavy, her heavy heart was already taking up too much space inside her body at the moment there was no room for food.

'Their last day, they aren't ready for this. Willow would never survive the post-game lifestyle. Her and Mace are too good to win', Denver did not look up from his plate as he said this. His voice cut through the silence like a knife, leaving deep wounds,

'Now, now, we will have no morbid talk today, Denver. Those two tributes are going to make me proud', Fifi had walked into the room towards the end of Denver's proclamation and even though her words were confident, her face showed lines of sadness. Even the preppy Fifi knew what was really in store for the two tributes,

'Where are the kids anyway? Are they really sleeping?' Cynthia looked towards Fifi as she spoke, her voice surprised. Normally no one could sleep the day before the beginning of the games, no matter how much you needed sleep,

'no, but the dears are just showering, I told them to not be long- they have a long day of final preparations. They need to be prepared for-' Fifi never finished her sentence as Denver rose out of his chair in a flash, the seat falling backwards with a dull thud and his angry eyes focused on Fifi,

'this is their last day of freedom. They can do whatever they want, and if you try to boss them around one more time, I swear I will lock you out of the apartment', although he was angry, Denver's voice was deathly low and controlled, his anger seething under a barely controlled façade,

'Look, we don't need to fall apart in front of them, it will make them panic. Get your act together or I will lock both of you out. You got it?' Cynthia also rose from her seat and faced the pair that were still staring off, 'Because I promise you, if there is one wrong move I will make sure you wish you had never even stepped foot in this building', she continued before walking towards the bedrooms. The first door she reached was Mace's and she knocked quietly before she heard a muffled '_enter_'. Opening the door Cynthia made her way towards the boy who was staring out his window at the Capitol and the people who were buzzing around the streets,

'Hey, I wanted to see how you slept. Today is your day, do whatever you want. But if you need someone to sit with, I'm here. I know you don't want to talk about your feelings and stuff, but sometimes sitting with someone is better than being all alone', Cynthia spoke quietly as she entered the room and made her way towards Mace, before standing at the window, taking in the same view as him,

'thanks, did you feel this empty before your games? Did you ever feel so helpless?' Mace turned towards Cynthia before pulling a face and looking back towards the window, 'of course you didn't, and you were a killing machine- no fear. You knew from the beginning you were going to win', Mace turned away and walking towards his bed and layed down facing away from the window and Cynthia,

'Actually, the moment my name was pulled out of the bowl I knew I was going to die. When I was training I knew I was going to die, and the day before my games I knew I was going to die. In a way I did, no victor comes out the way they went in,' Cynthia was facing the window still and her voice had not risen from her soft whisper, 'it wasn't until the last day that I allowed myself to hope I would win. I spent my whole game and the preparation before it fearing death. I was so insecure, and my mentor could not help me. I think waiting for the game to start was worse than the game', Cynthia turned towards Mace before sitting on the bed next to him and she placed her hand on his knee in an effort to show comfort,

'it is normal to feel scared and alone, but you aren't alone and if you weren't scared than you wouldn't be the kind hearted person I know that you are', she smiled sadly before sitting there in silence with Mace. Neither talked for the next hour until Denver entered the room and one look at Cynthia had her rising from the bed and allowing Denver to take her spot, she walked out of the room without a backwards glance. She needed to let Mace and Willow go, or else they would haunt her.

Cynthia spent the next three hours sitting in the entertainment room holding a double whiskey in her hand. She hadn't even had the nerve to touch the drink. She had just sat in silence staring at the blank wall. This was her day to grieve, and accept that there was nothing else she could do for Mace and Willow, all her efforts to gain sponsors had fallen flat, District 12 had taken the spotlight and the sponsors along with it. It was during the third hour of sitting there than Willow sat down silently next to the older woman. After five minutes the young girl placed her head on Cynthia's shoulder and stared at the same spot. In many ways Cynthia and Willow were similar, they were both hot headed at times and outgoing but they were also reserved and observant. Willow was smart, so smart in fact, that she knew what lay in store for her in the arena, and yelled at Denver over dinner about it last night. Intelligence and happiness very rarely co-existed. After the second night in the Capitol Willow and Cynthia had taken to sitting like this, silently in the entertainment room, and it had become a sort of bonding time for the two women, who although stayed silent the whole time were able to get to know each other so well. It was this silence that comforted Willow up until dinner was served and before the two walked out Willow placed her hand on Cynthia's shoulder,

'Can you tell my parents I tried', was all she said before leaving a silent and wide eyed Cynthia alone. Silently Cynthia moved her hand to cover her mouth before allowing one silent tear to flow from her eye. Picking up her untouched whiskey she through it with force at the television screen. Instead of making her way to the dining table, Cynthia moved towards the apartment door,

'Don't wait up, Fifi', she called as the door closed behind her and she made her way towards the lift. Pressing the button she waited in silence before it opened and allowed her to choose a floor. Without even looking she had pressed number four. By the time she was out of the lift and knocking on the door her composure was slipping. She was grasping at control, trying to contain the tears. Mags opened the door the next minute and Cynthia flew into the older woman's arms. Mags said nothing as she just brushed back Cynthia's hair in a soothing manner before pulling her towards the private rooms. They walked past three doors before entering the room on the left. The room was dark before Mags touched a switch and the lights were turned onto a dim setting, sitting at the window with his back turned was Finnick,

'Mags, I really don't want to talk', Was all he said without turning towards the two women standing in his doorway. Mags gave Cynthia a subtle push and pointed towards the space next to Finnick before turning off the lights and backing out of the room. Cynthia silently made her way towards the bench seat that Finnick was sitting on before sitting down and touching Finnick's bare shoulder. He startled before turning towards her and even in the dark she could see that is eyes were wide with recognition,'

Hey, what's wrong?' that was all it took before Cynthia threw her arms around the boy and hugged herself to him, her face buried itself into the crook of his neck and her arms tightened around his abdomen,

'I just needed you so I could feel ok again', she said in reply, Finnick placed one arm around her back and the other underneath her legs and lifted her up bridal style before laying her on his bed and lying next to her. Instantly Cynthia snuggled towards him and placed her head on his shoulder and held his hand in a vice grip,

'I just don't know how much more I can take, Finn, I am drowning in it all', she whispered in his ear, 'I am so broken, I am useless', she sobbed some more before going silent, letting her tears just fall. Finnick looked down at her with a frown,

'Cyn, don't give up, never give up. I need you so much sometimes it hurts. You're the first person I think of when something happens, I think of you when I wake up, when I go to sleep. Every time I see something green I think of you, and when I look at the sky I think of your eyes. You have taken over my whole mind, you've crept up on me and taken over', Finnick had taken Cynthia's face in his hands and was staring at her so seriously, 'I need you to survive, stay with me',

'Always', Cynthia whispered back quietly, 'But why have you been ignoring me?'

Finnick sighed before looking away from her eyes,

'because when we were there, holding each other together, I knew that if someone threatened you I would be useless', was all he said as he looked in her eyes, sincerity ringing clear in his voice,

'Oh Finn, don't you see? It's the same for me too', Cynthia placed her hands over Finnick's before smiling, 'we are terrible with this communicating feelings thing', she smiled wider as Finnick started to laugh,

'When have I ever made anything easy for you Cynny?'

'oh Finny-boy, you only think you have all the cards', Cynthia smiled before snuggling down and closing her eyes, 'You better not snore or else you are sleeping on the couch!', she mock growled,

'hey! This is my bed, why should I leave?' Finnick also shuffled in the bed, getting comfortable while holding Cynthia in his arms,

'I am a woman, so what I say goes', Cynthia replied with a slight jab at Finnick's ribs,

'Women…' Finnick sighed before squeezing Cynthia even closer to him content with having even one night by her side.


	6. Chapter 6

The moments between consciousness and sleep are Cynthia's favourite time. It allows the brain to see the world in a dreamlike state, makes everything good. It's those moments that Cynthia finds comfort by being able to pretend that things are different, that she is back home in her own bed and that the Hunger Games are only a thing of nightmares. But then unfortunately the brain continues to wake and reality seeps through every pore until it has drowned out any happiness that was once present.

Cynthia woke to the feeling of a heavy weight lying across her stomach and a warm body pressed against her side. Without moving too much, she shifted her head until she was looking at the face of Finnick. In sleep he looked peaceful and young. He took none of his day to day worries to sleep with him and his calm complexion was a welcome sight. If things were different, Cynthia thought, than this would be his normal expression- hopeful, happy and serene. Finnick was so starkly different from her, he was not a natural killer, and he was just selfish enough to live. But Cynthia, well, she was a natural, the Hunger Games were natural for her. She lived in a district where you killed all the time, but her personality was harsh and cold even before the games, before any of this. As a child she was able to switch off her emotions, lock them away, not once did she ever make a decision based on feelings alone. Ant it was that difference from Finnick that scared her, that made her aware that no matter how much they had in common now that they would never really be able to understand one another. He was too good, much too moral. He sacrificed his soul to save those he loved but Cynthia had not been able to do the same. Finnick was capable of love and Cynthia didn't believe she would ever truly know what love even was.

Cynthia knew she had to break away from Finnick, she knew she had to let him go. Last night he was right, she was his liability and she could never handle knowing that they used her against him. Looking at him now with the sun streaming in on his face was painful, knowing that she could never truly have him for herself. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him by her side, but she couldn't do that to him- where he had grown into a self-sacrificing adult she had grown into a shrewd and cold hearted woman. Cynthia decided right there and then that she would put an end to this friendship, that by cutting herself out of his life would be the most selfless thing she will ever do.

Coming back to reality she realised that Finnick was still snoring slightly and his grip on her had loosened some. She could use this to her advantage and sneak out of his room before he woke; she was never any good at goodbyes. Last night had been just what she needed, a friend who she trusted with almost all her secrets. Lifting his arm ever so slightly Cynthia shimmied to the edge of the bed before putting a pillow in her spot. Laying his hand back down Cynthia watched Finnick latch onto the pillow. This was the last time she would ever let herself be this close to Finnick, this was her last image of him and he didn't disappoint. Moving towards the door she left his room without a backwards glance.

Reaching District 10's room she exited the lift and walked in to see everyone already at the dinner table eating a wide range of hot breakfast foods. Plastering a megawatt smile on her face Cynthia strode up to where Willow and Mace,

'Morning tributes, today is the big day. Today is the day when you finally put your winning plan into action. Denver and I have told you all you need to know in order to survive and you have the skill set behind you, so there is no reason as to why I won't be escorting you out of the arena in no time', Cynthia held onto their shoulders as the pair looked up at her with glum eyes. It killed her to know that these two lovely children, with whom she was so dearly close to, were going to be dead. District 12's tribute had signed their deaths as soon as she put on that fire suit, and Cynthia hated her for it,

'It's okay, Cyn, you don't have to pretend anymore. We know what is going to happen in the arena', Mace was always so gruff and unemotional throughout his whole training but today he let the scared little boy shine through, he let Cynthia know that he was not as tough as he pretended to be, 'you did your best and that is all you and Denver can do. Besides, you wouldn't want us clogging up the Victor Village', He laughed lightly with no humour and Willow placed her hand on his arm. The small act may not have been very important to many people but Denver and Cynthia knew that this showed true friendship that couldn't be crushed by the games; they knew that Mace and Willow would stick together until the end and that was comfort enough,

'Aye Mace, Cyn here is never at the village anyway so you won't cramp my style that much', Denver said with a hopefully light voice, 'besides we could use some pretty faces around here, you'd pick Willow over Sour Puss Cyn any day', Cynthia gave Denver a look before picking up a glass of water and pouring it on his head. The act lightened the room and both Willow and Mace laughed as Cynthia smirked,

'I guess that is why you don't have any mirrors, hey Den? Because if you think I am ugly well then you must be a whole other level of gross', Cynthia smiled warmly at the man before picking the final bits of toast off his plate and eating it as he just stared open mouthed at her. Sitting down she decided that in order to keep the mood light she should try to replay some funny moments to Mace and Willow that had happened while they were training.

'Mace, I forgot to tell you the other day. But when you left me to go to training that morning I meet up with Chaff and he once again tried to convince me that you and he still have a fight to settle after you bet his tribute in training the day before. I had to outdrink him two nights ago to repay him for the humiliation', Cynthia began while leaning forward towards Mace in order to capture his full attention, 'by the end of the night I was up on a coffee table singing 'All the Pretty Horses'. Haymitch and Seeder thought I had a lovely voice but after I sung it for the 10th time I think I had tired out the tune', Cynthia's eyes sparkled as Mace chuckled and shook his head while Willow covered her smiling mouth with her hand before letting a burst of laughter flow from her mouth,

'I think your worst endeavour was when you and Johanna thought it would be a reasonable idea to pull pranks on a passed out morphling. That moustache lasted days', everyone laughed as they recalled the night a week ago when Johanna and Cynthia were feeling particularly adventurous.

Leaving the table Mace and Willow left for their rooms, it was usual for tributes to lock themselves away during the last day, it was a way that they could come to terms with the fact that by tomorrow night they would be out in an arena full of bloody thirsty children. Getting up out of her seat, Cynthia turned towards Denver and Fifi,

'I am meeting Johanna in the gym, I will be back for lunch, if they need me you know where I am', Turning her back on the room she walked towards the door and down the lift to the basement where the Victors Gym was. Johanna was already there stretching and panting,

'I've warmed up without you, needed to get out of there ya know', was all she said and picked up an axe and threw it across the room, 'don't you ever just want to punch Snow in the face for what he does to us', she was angry, but then Johanna was always angry, she was always bitter. But then, so was Cynthia they had both lost everything they ever loved to the Capitol so there wasn't much left for them to fell. Picking up a speak Cynthia shuffled it in her hand to get it sitting comfortably before heaving it in the same direction as Johanna's axe, hitting bulls eye right next to it,

'I was in Finnick's room last night. I looked at him and realised how much danger I was putting him in, you know? Like he told me he would be useless if someone threatened me. I couldn't live with knowing that so I've walked away', Cynthia turned her back on Johanna before she felt a hand on her shoulder,

'For good? You can't protect everyone, Cyn. Are you going to walk out on me next? You know what is wrong, you're just afraid to get attached, to get emotional. We are friends because we don't need that fluffy bullshit but Finnick does, and that scares the shit outa you', Johanna had pulled on Cynthia's arm and made her look at her,

'Of course I am afraid of feeling something; he deserves someone better, someone who he can be normal with. I'm just not good enough for him, Jo. He deserves to be let go before I ruin him', she looked Johanna in the eyes, 'look, all I really need is to throw these knives and pretend they are Snow and Crane,' Cynthia smirked at Johanna,

'You're on. Whoever can get the most fatal shots wins'; She yelled as she ran towards the axe and started attacking the dummies. Cynthia smiled and picked up a belt of knives before throwing them at the left over dummies. Johanna knew exactly what Cynthia needed when she was feeling sad. She didn't need a shoulder to cry on; she needed a friend that could fight as hard as she could against any sort of emotion. Cynthia knew that as a pair they were cold hearted and ruthless and that is what she liked, what she needed when she felt herself falling apart.


End file.
